


plant a seed, watch it grow

by diamondRings_andThingslikethat



Series: The Affair [3]
Category: Dare Me (TV 2019), Dare Me - Megan Abbott
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confrontations, F/F, Infidelity, Teacher-Student Relationship, Trauma, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Relationships, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamondRings_andThingslikethat/pseuds/diamondRings_andThingslikethat
Summary: I don't know if this is good, so you know, I'm sorry.
Relationships: Beth Cassidy/Addy Hanlon, Colette French/Addy Hanlon
Series: The Affair [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665097
Comments: 15
Kudos: 76





	plant a seed, watch it grow

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if this is good, so you know, I'm sorry.

It's strange the affects words can have, how they can get stuck in your head. 

There probably isn't a kid in the world who hasn't heard the sticks and stones phrase, but it's a crock of shit. Addy's always known that. Bring friends with someone like Beth, not just from personal experience but seeing the affects her words have on other people, alone is enough to invalidate a saying like that. 

Will's words hurt, and they shouldn't have because she knows he was just looking out for her, but maybe that's why the stuck. If not for noise, loud and space filling, his words fill her head and wind up swallowing her whole. He's tainted Coach in her eyes. Not enough for her heart not to race whenever she enters a room. Not even for her to stop blushing whenever she catches her staring or slyly touches her skin or hair at practice when the other girls aren't really paying attention. Not enough for her to stop finding reasons to be her house at just about any given (allowed) moment. Not enough for her to have stopped sleeping with her. Certainly not enough for her to run back to Beth, but enough to have planted a seed. She's not scared (well, not completely), but she's been in a constant state of questioning, and it's been nearly a month. 

She's still Coach's girl, but the words, "You're never as special as she makes you feel, not even half," are still lingering. Every single time. Every compliment, every praise. Every kiss, every hug. Every orgasm. She hears it, and it takes her out of the moment, not enough to ruin it but enough to question things. She doesn't want to bring it up, scared of Coach's possible reaction. She doesn't know what worries her more, that Coach might get angry or that she might hurt Coach's feelings. 

She'd been so worried about Beth breaking them, she didn't see Sarge Will coming. But, she doesn't want it to get that far so she chokes it back and does her best to pretend they never spoke.

Coach's finger trailing up and down her spine brings her right back down to earth. When she looks up at Coach, she's already looking down at Addy, usually cold, hard eyes now warm, and gentle and twinkling like stars. Moments, since Will said what he said, moments like these that Coach makes Addy feel safe and secure. Usually happens in the calm and the quiet, and it's always all in a single look. This look, the one she's receiving from Coach right now. Looks like adoration, looks like love. Certainly feels like love. It's the only time Coach embodies serenity. 

It makes Addy reminiscent to when Coach would talk about Will, and the few occasions she'd see them together. Coach didn't look at him like that, didn't have the same glint in her eyes. There was a softness to her gaze on him, what Addy once that was love — before she really got to know Coach — was really excitement with a hint of joy, and the mix up makes sense; she gets it. It's why she keeps going back; maybe Will was wrong. 

Coach is different with her and not just in the the way she looks at her. Addy hasn't had a girlfriend or a boyfriend before, and she and Coach haven't defined what they're doing. Sure, she's a little lost; she's got questions, but they feel like girlfriends to her, all in all. Coach buys her gifts, takes her on dates, they have sleepovers, and yeah, they have a lot of sex, but it doesn't feel like just sex. It isn't to Addy, despite how Will's warning has tainted her perception. After all, tainted doesn't mean ruined, and she thinks she loves Coach; she thinks (hopes, really) Coach might love her back. Maybe he wasn't as special, but she might be. Addy tells herself that what she shares with Coach and whatever she and Will had. Maybe, but she hopes. 

Whole lot of mights and maybes but she thinks they're worth holding onto. Hope is always worth holding onto, she tells herself.

Addy snuggles more into Coach and lets herself sleep, forcing Will's voice away. 

* * *

RiRi invites Addy to go drinking with her later on that week. Just the two of them. And, admittedly, it's weird. A little out of left field. She doesn't think she's ever been with RiRi without Beth or the squad. But, she likes RiRi. She's always liked RiRi. So, she goes. 

As much fun as they had, she definitely missed some things that she probably shouldn't have. Namely that RiRi didn't drink nearly as much she did. When they leave the bar, RiRi takes her for food then swears she's taking Addy home. She doesn't. Addy's now standing at Beth's doorstep as she's smiling and thanking RiRi, and all she can do is wonder how she didn't see this coming. Because she really should have, but she really didn't. 

Then, Beth's attention is on her. 

She's just staring, and Addy's just staring back. Then, she smiles at her, and maybe it's because she's drunk, but Addy can't tell if it's real. Beth reaches over, takes her hand without asking as if that's okay. Addy isn't sure if it is or isn't, but it shouldn't be. She knows that much. She wants to call Coach to come get her, sort of, but she knows if Coach had to come pick her up from Beth's house of all places past midnight (because she knows it's past midnight; she just doesn't know what time it is) that she'd flip. She'd come to get her away from Beth, but Addy would be in so much trouble. So, she let herself be dragged inside. 

Beth takes care of her same as she's done a million times over, same as Addy used to do for her. Like nothing has happened, like nothing has changed. Everything feels different for Addy. It's baffling to her that Beth doesn't seem to feel it. Though, it's likely that she feels it and just doesn't care. No matter how much things had changed, no matter how different they felt, somehow, some way (RiRi selling her up the river) she ended up right back in Beth's lair. Beth brings her a cup of coffee and gives her time to sober up. Addy's nauseous, and it has very little to do with the liquor swimming around in her system. Everything to do with the fact that for as silent as she is, Beth's staring at her like she's some omnipotent being. Like she knows everything. And, she doesn't know everything. She doesn't know Coach half as well as she thinks she does; she doesn't know anything real about them. Yet, Addy knows Beth well enough to know that regardless of what she may or may not know or understand, she still manages to know too much information. 

She thinks about Beth telling her what she saw them thinks about that video she took of Coach and Sarge Will and wonders if she took a video of them, too. She doesn't think she would, but she never thought had would point a gun in her face either, but that happened. All of a sudden she feels hot coffee on her hands and before she can register the pain of it, Beth's taking the mug from her hand and taking care of that, too. It's familiar and yet so very weird. And, through all this, Beth still isn't speaking. 

"Why did you make RiRi bring me here?" All curiosity, not an ounce of confrontation; she doesn't have the energy for confrontation. 

Beth shrugs easy, doesn't avoid her eye, "I wanted to see you."

"So, you got RiRi to get me drunk so I just had to stay?" It sounds rhetorical to Addy's own ears; she can't tell — not even in her own head — if it was meant to be. 

But, Beth answers, getting up after cleaning the coffee from her hands. "It worked." She heads in the direction of her room. Addy follows her. 

She's sober, she thinks. Sober enough to walk a (mostly) straight line, and she couldn't even really walk on her own when she first got here. 

Beth climbs into her bed and lifts to covers up as an invitation, and Addy hesitates. Because this feels like cheating, and she knows Coach would be pissed about it. But, Beth raises an eyebrow and for some reason, that's all it takes before she's kicking off her shoes and climbing in. Maybe because this doesn't feel too optional, maybe because she feels stranded here.

They lay face to face. Beth scoots close enough that Addy can feel her body heat, and if she scoots backwards, she'll end up on the floor. When Beth loops her arm around her waist and pulls her away from the edge, Addy feels like her chest has caved in, and she just knows there's no way Beth can't see that she's struggling to breathe. 

Beth rubs her thumb over back, and makes her think of when Coach does it, though, she prefers Coach's hanfs; she feels a little guilty that that's what calms her down; it's like another reminder that she shouldn't be here. Up close, Beth looks sad and tired and she knows it's her fault. If it isn't Bert, it's always her fault. Addy looks away from her face because it's a lot to handle, the guilt gnawing at her insides. Because she knows how she feels and she's lying here thinking of someone else. Honest to God, she wants Beth to be happy. But, she doesn't want to be the source of her happiness; that's draining and she doesn't want them to be happy together. Not anymore, not like how Beth wants. She's happy with someone else, and she doesn't know where it's going, but she doesn't want to lose it. 

"I shouldn't be here." She whispers, avoiding looking at Beth, because she knows that hurts. Especially if the way she's tightened her hold is any indication, it feels like a plea. Like she's begging her not to get up and call a ride. 

"Why?" She whispers back, and Addy opens her mouth to answer but doesn't get a chance. "Why did you leave me for her?"

Addy sighs, looks her in the eye, "I didn't." Not really. Kind of. Beth thinks it's Coach's fault, that she forced her to cut Beth off. But, she didn't need Coach to _force_ her to do anything; she just needed an out. Her relationship seemed like a damn good out.

"Bullshit. She whispered one little thing in your hear and you were a ghost." 

"She didn't make me do that," her voice trembled, just a little. She looked Beth in the eyes again. "I did that. She just gave me a reason." Beth's looking at her like she's searching for a lie, and she isn't going to find one. She loosens her grip, but doesn't let go, when she realizes that. 

"Why don't you love me, Addy?"

"I do." Beth doesn't look like she believes her, and Addy doesn't blame her. "I just don't want what you want." 

"What changed?" Because just this summer, Beth was so sure they would be more than friends by the end of this semester. And yet, here they were. Addy doesn't respond, won't even look at her; she doesn't think she can. Wanting to run away from Beth isn't an unfamiliar feeling for her but it has never been stronger than it is right now. Beth grits her teeth, "What changed, Addy?"

Maybe it's the hardness dancing with that fear, the same desperation her voice had the night of the bonfire. Because when Addy blinks, she's staring down the barrel of the gun again, and something in her snaps, _**breaks**_ , more appropriately. "You pulled a fucking gun on me, Beth!" 

The sharpness of her tone makes Beth wince, and silence washes over them. Addy realizes — _truly realizes, in this moment_ — that she had never actually acknowledged that before, not in a way that recognized the seriousness of it; it just **haunted** her subconscious while she forced herself to move on. She comforted Beth as if _she_ were the one that needed it that night and forced herself to move on. Never spoke about. Never even asked for the apology she knew she deserved; never dealt with the underlying anger of knowing that she shouldn't even have had to _ask_ for an apology. Nevermind the fact that it took her a week to be able to sleep alone after, and never mind that fact that she only doesn't have nightmares, is if she's in Coach's arms, in her bed. She can't imagine how she'll sleep, now, if she can. And, she never even mentioned it. Just like every other thing that Beth has ever done that may have hurt her, she just moved on. _**For Beth's sake.**_

And, all she can think right now is: **Fuck that.**

Addy used to feel safe with Beth, in her own weird way that no one else ever seemed to understand. Even with the other bullshit surrounding their relationship, she could always find solace in the fact that Beth could make her feel secure; that she could always be her girl. 

But, that all changed the night of bonfire for her, and she couldn't find that security again. Not in the same way. Because now, for her, being Beth's girl didn't mean unconditional love and protection. It was all possession, all consuming and it wasn't worth it. Since the night of the bonfire, whenever she's alone (really, when she's not with Coach) if her brain wonders off too far or whenever she closes her eyes, even if just to blink, she sees that damn gun. And, Beth always pulls the trigger. And, she ignores the way it makes her lungs feel filled with water every time, pretends that Beth doing that to her wasn't a big deal, that it didn't leave any lasting mark, when in truth, she's never known fear like that existed, and she couldn't shake, no matter much she ignored it.

_**Fuck that.** _

She wasn't ignoring it anymore. Not for Beth, not for anybody.

She pushes Beth's loosened arm away and crawls out of bed. She'd rather sleep on the sidewalk than sleep here. 

Beth watches her put her shoes on. "I wouldn't have shot you." 

Addy clenches her jaw, scoffs through her nose. Because _still_ , no apology. She looks at Beth over her shoulder, "I don't know that." 

She watches her walk to the door as she sits up in bed, "She won't love you." Addy stops because now she hears Will's voice echoing, too. "She'll never love you. Doesn't matter how many fancy pairs of earrings she buys you. When she gets bored, she'll spit you out like used gum. Just like she did the good Sarge." 

Addy can hear the spite in her voice, and she doesn't even bother to turn around. Because Coach wouldn't do that (she doesn't think), and that's just Beth's jealousy talking. Will, Beth, they just want what she and Coach have. "I prefer that to being shot." She says before leaving Beth alone because she can be petty, too. 

She walks like three blocks from Beth's house, and calls Coach. She has to call her six times before she answers, and the sixth time, she answers on the very last ring. She takes convincing, a little more than Addy had hoped for, but she manages to sway her. And, it doesn't take her long at all to find her. When she pulls up, she's got her overhead light on, inside the car. Addy can see even before the car fully stops how peeved she looks. Addy gets in the car and Coach speeds off as soon as the door closes. Addy hopes she won't say anything, but she's still full expecting it. 

"My husband's home." She says, in the normal, hard, cold tone. "Did you forget that?" Addy feels herself shrink a little because she knew she would be angry; she can only imagine how much angrier she'd be, if she had to pick her up from Beth's driveway, "Or, did you just not care?" 

"What did you tell him?"

"He didn't wake up." She looks at Addy, sees how glossy her eyes are, how distressed she looks. And, Colette can smell her, can smell whatever it was she's been drinking. Addy looks like she's had a shit night, and she looking at Colette like she just knows she's in trouble. So, she doesn't say anything else. She also decides to take her to her house instead of home. 

When they pull up to Colette's house, Addy unlocked the door, makes an attempt to get out. Colette locks it back and Addy slowly turns back to look at her. Colette can see it, see that guilt. She'd be willing to be her car if she got closer to Addy and smelled her, alcohol wouldn't be the only thing she smelled. 

"What were you doing shivering in the street at four in the morning?" Addy doesn't answer, just somehow manages to look guiltier. Colette clenches the steering wheel, more annoyed than before by her silence because it just confirms suspicions she already had. "Were you with Beth?" 

"We didn't do anything." Addy says. Quickly, too quickly. Colette narrows her eyes, trying to gauge if she buys that or not. Then, Addy tells her everything, and not just about tonight.

She finally talks about bonfire, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> I, personally, don't think anyone can have their best friend pull a gun on them, and be okay, after. And, I feel like the show just kind of brushed it off. 
> 
> Also, I said this in the comments (I think), but don't hold onto canonical events. There are similarities, but due to how uncertain I am about the trajectory of this story, if you hold onto major canonical events, you might really end up disappointed.


End file.
